


The Plan

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past Underage, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Derek's just lost his family. Laura and the Sheriff negotiate a plan to help him. He hates it.





	The Plan

It started with a flower. A single daisy sitting in a clear vase next to his bed. His mother had given it to him. Derek didn’t have a favourite flower, but his mother had always loved daisies.

“Son,” The Sheriff said as Derek stared at the flower. “We need to talk.”

 

The flower wasn’t from his mother because his mother was dead. So was his father, and his baby sister, and his uncle was in a coma. He and Laura had survived, but he wasn’t allowed to see her yet. It made him angry, so he broke a window.

The nurses strapped him to the bed. He could have broken out, but then they would ask questions. His mother always told him to avoid questions.

 

“Do you like Super Mario Brothers?” The boy next to him had a shaved head and wide hazel eyes, his pale skin was covered in moles and freckles, and he was pissing Derek off. “How about Yoshi?” He wouldn’t shut up.

“Why are you here?” Derek asked, flicking through the magazine in his lap without paying attention to the words.

“My dad’s talking to your doctor,” He said. “I thought I’d keep you company.” He smiled. It was too wide and goofy.

 

It was Laura. Laura was really alive.

He held her in his arms until she told him he had to let go. He cried against her shoulder until she told him he was ruining her jacket. He begged her to tell him that they were lying to him, but she didn’t say a word.

Laura told him the Sheriff’s plan. She was going to New York. She was going to get a job and save up for a nice apartment for the two of them. Then she was going to pay for Derek to come out there when she was ready. The Sheriff would look after him until then.

Derek hated this plan.

 

No matter how much he argued, Laura wouldn’t change her mind. She told Derek that this would be the best thing for them. That they’d be together again in no time. That he had to be strong for just a little while.

Derek wanted to tell her he hated her, but he couldn’t do that. She was all he had left.

 

Derek stood in the hallway of the Sheriff’s house. It was smaller than the Hale house but homey. He could tell that something was missing though, or maybe someone. He was too polite to ask.

The boy was sitting in the living room and playing a video game. He asked Derek if he wanted to play, too. Derek thought about saying yes but instead walked upstairs and slammed the door to the guest room shut.

He ignored the picture of a beautiful woman smiling happily.

 

Derek opened the window from the outside and creeped back into the Stilinski’s guest room. The lights turned on when his feet hit the ground and the Sheriff stood in the doorway, glaring at him.

“I understand that you’re hurting, son,” He said. “But I won’t have you acting like a bad influence while you live here. Especially not around Stiles.”

Stiles? Oh. The boy.

“Don’t call me son.”

 

Derek kept sneaking out. He’d walk through the preserve and crawl through the remains of his home. He’d try to find something, anything, that could remind him of home, but there was nothing left. Just ashes and dirt.

The Sheriff was always waiting for him. Standing in the doorway of the guest room with a lecture pre-prepared. Derek hated him. Derek hated Stiles, too, because he always stood up for him.

“He’s grieving, dad!”

“He’s sad, dad!”

“Maybe he needs this, dad!”

Brat.

 

Derek walked into the guest and tried to pull the window open, but it was stuck. He had put locks on the window. Derek thought about breaking it, but he knew that would just make it worse.

Derek sat on the edge of his bed and glared when the Sheriff walked passed the door.

 

“Do you want to play a game with me?” Stiles asked.

“No,” Derek said.

“Do you want to take a walk?” Stiles asked.

“No,” Derek said.

“Do you want me to teach you how to undo the locks?” Stiles asked.

“…You know how?”

 

The deal was that Stiles got to come with him. Derek didn’t have time to argue. The Sheriff would come back in a few hours. They had to work fast.

Stiles talked as they walked. He told him stories about school, about his best friend, about how his dad wasn’t really a bad guy. He ignored Derek when he scoffed at that last one. And then he told him about his mother. She got sick and died. It was hard for them both, him and his dad, but they were doing better now.

It was the first time Derek had felt sorry for them.

 

“This was your house!” Stiles said as they crept through the house. “This place must have been awesome.”

“It was.” Derek said. He ran his hand over the mantle piece, pushing large clumps of ash to the creaking floor.

“Can we go upstairs?” Stiles asked as he stopped at the bottom of the staircase.

“Better not,” Derek said. “I haven’t checked if it’s safe or not.”

“Okay.” Stiles shrugged before a sudden blast of red and blue light began swirling through the windows. “Uh oh.”

 

“I told you that you wouldn’t get away with this crap, especially with Stiles around, but all you did was ignore me.” The sheriff yelled as he slammed the cruiser door shut. “What do I have to do to get it through your head? You will not get away with this just because you’re grieving. It’s not fair, Derek. It just isn’t fair.”

Stiles was talking a mile a minute about how it was all his idea and how Derek had nothing to do with it. He was telling his dad to go easy on him, to remember his blood pressure, and to remember that Derek was just trying to figure things out again.

The Sheriff waved away his excuses and looked at Derek expectantly.

“I just wanted to be close to them.” Derek said.

The Stilinski’s stilled as Derek walked to the cruiser.

 

Derek didn’t sneak out the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. He just laid in bed. Not sleeping. Just – Just lying there.

 

Stiles never knocked. He just walked in and jumped onto the bed with a smile. He always came prepared with something to do. A game, a book, a movie. Derek always refused whatever he offered.

“How old are you?” Derek asked one day.

“I’m fourteen,” Stiles said as he read the blurb of his book.

“You’re kidding,” Derek laughed. “You look twelve.”

“Well, I’m not.” Stiles said with a glare.

“Okay, okay.” Derek said, holding his hands up in surrender.

Stiles laid down next to Derek, turning his head to face him and whispering. “Are you going to get out of bed today?”

“No,” He said.

“Are you going to get out of bed tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” He said.

“Is that a no?”

Derek paused. “Yes.”

 

There was a knock at his door. It wasn’t Stiles then.

He sat up and waited for whoever it was to come in. The Sheriff walked in first, followed by a stylishly dressed woman with shoulder length hair. She smiled at Derek, her eyes assessing him, and introduced herself as Natalie Martin. She was a doctor. A therapist. She wanted to talk to him.

Derek didn’t say no. He didn’t say yes either.

 

Dr Martin came to see him four days a week. They talked about Derek’s family and about the accident. They talked about Laura leaving for New York and they talked about Derek’s life with the Stilinski’s. Then they talked about depression and grief.

Dr Martin told him it was okay to feel angry with his family. She told him that it was okay to be in denial about their death. She told him it was okay to miss him. Then she told him that he couldn’t waste his life because they had lost theirs.

 

His first trip out of the house was spent sat in a diner booth. They were eating greasy fries and too big hamburgers with milkshakes that were difficult to suck up their straws.

Stiles told him that every year they came here for his birthday because they had the best curly fries. He looked at Derek like he had the secrets of the universe when he handed him his fries.

 

“Do you like me?” Stiles asked.

“What?” Derek said.

“Do you like me?” Stiles asked. “We talk, and we spend time together, and you gave me your fries. So…do you like me?”

Derek shrugged. “Sure.”

Stiles smiled.

 

“Derek’s weird.” Scott whispered, unaware that Derek could hear them. How would they know he was a werewolf?

“He’s my friend.” Stiles said as though that made everything okay.

 

The Sheriff handed Derek a small box and smiled. “I’m proud of you, Derek.” He said. “You’ve come a long way.”

When Derek opened the box, he found his father’s car keys. Apparently, Laura had taken their mother’s Camaro.

 

Derek got the car so long as he helped around the house. He picked up his share of the chores and picked Stiles up from school while he was working on getting his own licence. Everyday he met him in the third row of the student parking lot, and they drove home together. Stiles would tell him about his day and ask Derek about his. Derek never had much to say.

Today was different. Stiles usually took half an hour at most, but it had almost been an hour. It wasn’t detention. Stiles always texted when he had detention.

Derek got out of the car and listened. It had been difficult to focus lately, but he was getting better again. He listened and heard – yelling.

Derek’s eyes flashed blue as he stormed into the school building and began searching for Stiles. He found him kneeling next to Scott while a group of boys holding lacrosse sticks surrounded them. They were yelling back and forth at each other.

Derek slammed his fist against one of the lockers and glared when the group turned to face him. The boy scattered. He let them go and focused on Stiles and Scott, who was sat on the ground wheezing.

“He has asthma.” Stiles said, panicked and afraid.

“Where’s his inhaler?” Derek asked.

“I don’t – I don’t know. I just –,”

Scott wheezed, but it felt like he was trying to say something, his hand was moving to the side. Derek followed the gestured and found his backpack hidden behind a row of lockers. Working quickly, Derek grabbed his bag and took out his inhaler quickly throwing it to Scott and waiting for his breathing to become controlled again.

Derek sat in front of the two boys and waited for their heartbeats to calm down.

“Tell me what happened.”

 

Apparently, bullying wasn’t that unusual of an occurrence for the two of them. Scott had severe asthma and Stiles’ ADHD made him a nightmare during the school hours. Their inability to play sports and they preference for video games made them easy targets for the more popular students. When they realised they were alive, that was.

It made Derek angry to think that they were treated this way. It made him angrier to think that Derek probably would have done the same thing to them only a year ago.

He drove Scott home and promised not to tell him mother about what had happened. He didn’t want to worry her. Derek could respect that.

It took a little while longer for Stiles to convince him not to tell the Sheriff. When he finally agreed, Stiles threw his arms over his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

Derek couldn’t hug him back.

 

That night, when the Sheriff asked about their day, Derek only shrugged.

Stiles thanked him before they went to bed that night.

 

Lately Stiles hadn’t left him alone. What was strange was that he hardly ever spoke. He just sat with him.

Derek noticed it for the first time on a Saturday afternoon. Scott had come knocking on the door, asking if Stiles wanted to hang out, and he had refused. Then he came back into the living room and sat down next to Derek, his hands in his lap and his knee tapping Derek’s softly.

Derek almost questioned it. Almost.

 

The Sheriff had tried giving him more space. Even since Derek stopped sneaking out and lying in bed all day, he had pretty much left him alone. Derek appreciated it.

Now he was stood in the police station, staring down at Derek as his bloody knuckles healed slowly and his bruised jaw seemed to miraculously pop back into place. He didn’t say anything about it, but Derek knew he noticed it. He’d have to be blind to miss it.

“What happened, son?” The Sheriff asked.

“Don’t call me son.” Derek said.

The Sheriff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Derek, tell me what happened. Now.”

“There was a fight,” Derek said. “I won.”

 

Derek had to do community service. Mostly that meant picking up rubbish on the motorway. Sometimes at the park, too. It wasn’t so bad. Minus the orange jumpsuit.

The Sheriff would pick him up after he was finished every day. He had taken the car keys back.

Stiles would always be sat in the passenger seat, smiling and waving at him like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. It was strange, but it made Derek happy to have someone happy to see him for once..

 

The Sheriff had told Laura about the fight, about community service, about the wounds healing.

Laura was pissed. Their mother never got angry when things like this happen. She didn’t appreciate Derek pointing this out to her.

No, Laura just told him to get his head out of his ass and hung up the phone.

Derek called back to apologise, but she wouldn’t answer.

 

“I’m sure she’ll answer today.” Stiles said optimistically.

She didn’t.

 

She answered the day afterwards. Stiles had called her.

He stood in the doorway of Derek’s room – he’d stopped calling it the guest room – with the phone in his hand and a sheepish smile. Derek thanked him and apologised to his sister.

She called him a jerk then told him she loved him.

He asked when they could be together again, and she avoided the question.

 

Derek hadn’t realised what was happening until he felt warm lips pressed against his cheek. Jumping away from Stiles and standing next to the couch, Derek stared down at him with wide eyes.

Stiles sat blushing, running his hand over his shaved head and stammering under his breath.

“Why did you do that?” Derek asked.

“I – I thought you liked me,” Stiles said. “You said so.”

Derek blinked. Derek turned. Derek ran away.

 

Derek woke up surrounded by ash and the linger stench of smoke. He had gone home last night and slept on the remains of their living room floor.

Staring up at the ceiling, he thought back to the night before. They had been watching TV as usual without a word when Stiles had shifted next to him. It wasn’t strange. Stiles always fidgeted. Then he had kissed him.

Sure, it was only on the cheek, but it was still enough to make him remember.

They had been sat in her apartment. She had wine and Derek had water. She had laughed when he turned down a beer. Derek kissed her that day. Then – Then they had…

Derek closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He hated her so much.

 

“Where the hell have you been!” The Sheriff yelled as Derek stepped into his office and shut the door behind him.

“Stiles kissed me.” Derek said bluntly.

The Sheriff’s face fell. He opened his mouth to speak but simply sighed as he ran a hand over his face. Sitting down, he pointed to the seat across the desk and waited for Derek to sit before speaking.

“What happened?”

So, Derek explained. Normal night, shifting closer, and then kissing.

The Sheriff paused. He reached into his pocket and took a key off his hook. Sliding it across the table, the Sheriff opened a folder in front of him.

Derek took the key. It was his father’s key. His key. Frowning, he waited for the Sheriff to explain.

“You should talk to Stiles,” He said. “He’s worried.”

 

Derek sat on the hood of the car, his elbows resting on his knees from where they were pulled up to his chest and waited for Stiles to walk out into the parking lot.

Stiles stopped at the top of the steps. He adjusted his backpack and slowly walked down the stairs towards Derek. He stared down at his shoes, kicking the gravel floor and chewing his bottom lip.

“Hey,” He said, his voice quiet.

“We should talk.”

 

They parked outside the Hale house and sat quietly in the preserve. Animals scuttled around the woods and flew above them. Derek did everything he could to focus on anything other than Stiles’ erratic heartbeat.

“So,” Stiles said nervously. “What’s up?”

Derek sighed. “I have to tell you something I haven’t told anyone since the fire.”

 

He told Stiles everything about Kate. How they met and how quickly their relationship developed. He talked about how open he was about who he really was and how after they had sex together, she had suddenly become obsessed with Derek’s family. At first, he didn’t think it was a big deal. She wanted to know him. But he was naïve.

“Did Kate set the fire?” Stiles asked.

“I think so.”

“We should tell my dad.” He said as he jumped up and went to the car.

“Stiles,” Derek called. “We can’t. There’s no proof she did it. Plus…it would just raise more questions.”

“About what?” He said.

“About who I am,” Derek said before allowing his face to shift.

 

Stiles didn’t scream, or faint, or cry. Overall, he handled it well.

Derek thought he was insane.

They drove back to the Stilinski house, Stiles filling the car with questions and theories that began growing in his mind. Stiles suddenly paused.

“What did that have to do with the kiss?” Stiles asked.

“I won’t be like her.”

“What do you mean?”

Derek sighed. “You’re fourteen. I’m seventeen.” He hesitated. “She was twenty-three.”

 

They didn’t talk after that.

 

The next day, Derek woke up to the phone being dropped on his chest. Derek blinked awake and watched as Stiles stomped from the room.

“’ello?” He said, his voice rough and tired.

“How does Queens sound to you?” Laura said, her smug.

 

Derek’s bag was packed. He was ready to go. Stiles wouldn’t leave his room.

Derek knocked on the door again. “Come on, Stiles,” He said. “You knew I would be leaving. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Well, it is to me!” Stiles snapped from behind the door.

Derek scratched his head. “I’m sorry,” He said. “I really am. I need to be with my sister. Can you understand that?”

Silence.

 

Derek dropped his bag into the back of the truck and opened the driver’s door. He grunted as two thin arms suddenly wrapped around his chest from behind. Coughing out a small laugh, Derek patted Stiles’ arms and smiled.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“Bye, Derek.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa, haven't written Sterek in FOR.EV.ER.
> 
> Hopefully, you liked this story. Please leave me a comment in the section below and tell me what you think.
> 
> Have a lovely day/night!


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